


Winged Bookmark

by Raining_Sky_Guy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Guardian Angels, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-05-17 15:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14834537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raining_Sky_Guy/pseuds/Raining_Sky_Guy
Summary: Ichigo knows he's a very strong capable angel.He knows that's the reason he's chosen to oversee Urahara Kisuke, even though he doesn't know why his amateur writer will face life-and-death situations in the near future.He wasn't assigned at his birth, there was no real danger and Ichigo had been in a prior engagement, so when he's finally dumped with this overgrown child, he barely knows a little more than Kisuke himself.Not only that, Kisuke seems to want to figure out what exactly is he with all his might. Ichigo doesn't know if that's worse than what he suspects is a crush.Even worse.A mutual one.





	1. Chapter 1

Kurosaki Ichigo has often times wondered why life was so unfair to him.

Today was no exception.

Ichigo had stopped having a pleasant breakfast when he noticed that in between sips of coffee, the shopkeeper had been subtly packing his bags. Ichigo scowled at the offending backpacks, as he began drumming his fingers irritably on the table. Kisuke was still pretending not to notice.

He didn’t even bother asking him where he was going. No, Ichigo was way past that. Asking only got him a bigger migraine and the same amount of mess to clean up.

No. Ichigo just slammed his fist on the table as he leant forward. “Don’t you fucking dare go there.”

Kisuke only smiles in that childish and distracting way of his before he’s scampering off, in a dash to somewhere dangerous.

Ichigo sighed. Finished his own cup of coffee, gazed longingly at his cooling eggs before shooting out of the shop, running after his positively brain-dead charge.

At least he had his wings to make his chase that much easier. Which at this point was the only perk of being an angel.

But seriously.

His friends were assigned to watch over normal humans, maybe the odd madman.

But he’s ordered to watch over this smartass, obnoxious, danger-prone, lackadaisical handsome genius.

Who seemed hellbent on finding the most dangerous situation or place and dived headfirst into it.

 

* * *

 

He arrives when a scuffle has already broken out, and in a fashion very unfitting for a guardian angel (which probably appalled whoever else was watching from above), Ichigo jumped on the fray, dishing out abnormally strong kicks and absurdly fast punches. All the while searching for his charge, and once he found the man dancing between attacks, he began hounding him with words,

“What the _fuck_ did I tell you? Can’t you just go one day without starting a turf war or whatever this is?”

“I need to continue my research, Ichigo-san, sometimes I don’t really have a choice.” Kisuke sighs as if it pained him greatly, not losing his dramatics even in the middle of a fight. “The woes of  a writer.”

“Kisuke. You keep picking a fight with the local yakuza. Are you sure you’re a writer?” Ichigo scoffs and ducks a metal bat that came from behind without even looking.

Kiisuke actually looks disgrutlend. “I find that highly uncalled for.”

Ichigo squints at him over the man he had headlocked, unmindful of the brass knuckles that were trying to dig themselves into his thigh. “We were having a nice breakfast and you decide out of the fucking blue to commit suicide via another turf war.”

“Oh, no. I had everything planned out. I knew you would come after me, barely a minute or so late.”

Ichigo scowled harder. “I’m not here to be your bodyguard.”

Kisuke smiles in that faintly distracted way, mind clearly elsewhere. “Well, so far you have yet to prove me otherwise.”

“Why do you even think I would?” Ichigo lets the now-unconcious man out of the headlock, letting him drop heavily as he somersaulted out of the way of two descending metal pipes. He rolls to his feet and dishes out a couple punches, hitting a jaw, a nose and an eye respectively –as he still has his head craned to stare at Kisuke.

The writer actually takes some time to think about it, head tilted to the sky and also not looking at his opponents. Ichigo feels like throttling him even more. “Because there’s something incredibly attractive about me?”

“You think I save your ass because I find you hot?” Ichigo is slightly shocked, the man he had by the collar of his shirt also looks surprised as he looks between the two. Kisuke just looks mildly puzzled.

“You don’t?”

“What the fuck.” Ichigo deadpans, not measuring his strength as he punched another thug with all of his angelic power. As bone crunched under his fist, Ichigo cringed. “Oh shit.”

“My, please don’t kill anyone. That would be a problem.” Kisuke said mildly, the fight having stopped altogether as the man with a broken jaw agonized in the floor.

“It’s not even that bad,” Ichigo lies through his teeth as he drops the man he was still holding with his left and crouched over the other injured man, obscuring him from sight. “Yeah, he’s just bruised. Maybe lost a tooth, but he’s crying for nothing.” Ichigo rose to his feet again and sure enough, the man didn’t look half as bad as they had all thought.

The criminal men then lose interest in Ichigo, just making sure their men were all accounted for before disappearing as the cops began sounding their sirens.

Just Kisuke continued staring at Ichigo with an ungodly amount of interest.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo, having cowered a whole group of yakuza into submission with sheer brute force again, led the chastised Kisuke back home with a foul face, looking far more beat up than Kisuke himself even though Kisuke was fairly certain he had seen him take a one or two hits at most.

He refrained from infuriating him even more and just obediently trudged back home, just stopping at a pharmacy to pick up some more bandages.

Once back at their department, Ichigo beelined for the kitchen, grabbing his plate of cold eggs and throwed it in the trash with a mournful expression. The blond sighed, as always surprised how this freeloader always managed to make him feel guilty with his kicked-puppy faces even though he spent most of his time scowling at him.

Kisuke cleared his throat and offered to patch him up as he brought out his first aid kit to replenish it and take out the necessary for his wounds. At this point it was more of a cordiality than anything else as he marveled over the fact that the man currently sprawled over his couch, despite his dirty appearance seemed to be completely uninjured. He refrained, as always, from pointing it out to his skittish partner, choosing to dab his own wounds lightly with alcohol, Ichigo having turned him down and then offered to cook for them.

The freeloader groaned, dropping his arm into his face, “I don’t want to have to wait eight hours again, Kisuke. Let me cook this time.”

Again, Kisuke pretended to be offended and watched with the same amount of interest as the first time, how Ichigo seemed to glow as he made his way over to the small kitchenette of his apartment.

Kisuke was partly annoyed and partly amused at still not being able to figure out what and who exactly his impromptu roommate was, but it was hilarious how Ichigo didn’t seem to know what exactly he should hide from him.

Ichigo dropped hints left and right with all the subtlety of a drunk elephant but _still_ Kisuke could not complete the puzzle. Maybe that was why Ichigo was so careless in the first place.

Urahara Kisuke prided himself in being a renowned genius and even though he had no need of using his full potential for his job as a writer, he would like to think that he’s still sharp enough to figure out the background and history of the person currently living with him.

Apparently not.

Kurosaki Ichigo’s past was practically nonexistent.

Nobody knows him from before, nobody remembers when he appeared. Not even Kisuke is sure. One day he’s running away from a couple yakuza he accidentally pissed off and next thing he knows, Ichigo is body-slamming into the one wielding a gun.

The weapon goes off, but Kisuke is already long gone. He cursed, and sped up too worried with saving his skin to worry about some random body falling from the sky. He dismisses it from his mind.

The next morning, he discovers that the free-falling individual had a face, a name and no place to stay.

“Hello, my name is Kurosaki Ichigo.” He says, his eyes shining golden with the rising sun. They’re almost distracting enough that not until later would Kisuke realize that despite his rather dramatic fall, he was completely uninjured.

Kisuke can feel a chill crawling up his spine.

“And you will need my help.”

“Who are you?” Kisuke asks, trying to gain time, trying to understand what was happening. Was he affiliated with the yakuza? With the mafia? Had they discovered where he lived? What sort of help was he offering?

“Kurosaki Ichigo.” The man replies.

Which is not a lie. But also not the whole truth. Kisuke doesn’t know what makes him think that, but he knows better than to doubt his gut feeling.

“And why do you suppose I would need your help?” He asks, smiling pleasantly to try to relax his companion. He only manages to make him scowl fiercely.

“Because you have the self-preservation of a retarded lemming.” He declared, apparently not caring that he had insulted Kisuke in his face, in his own house. Before Kisuke decides to screw it all and pull out his gun, the young man proceeds to say the damning words,

“A man named Aizen Sousuke plans to kill you.” He said, eyes not tearing themselves away from Kisuke even when he stumbled back. “I am here to prevent that.”

 

* * *

 Kisuke woke up, drool cold and sticky on his cheek, hunched over his desktop, the blues and whites of the computer screen reflecting off his pale skin. He sighed, wiping the drool with his sleeve as he painstakingly sat back up. He squinted at the screen to see the hour and he could make out a 3:30. The young writer slammed his laptop shut, too tired to care and got up with sluggish movements to grab a cup of water before heading to bed.

It was not an unusual occurrence for him to fall asleep whilst writing into the new day, but that particular dream, or rather, memory, was surprising.

He probably had been spending way too much trying to figure out what his roommate was hiding that now even his dreams were being overridden by his grumpy partner.

Kisuke sighed to himself as ne nudged his door open and found Ichigo awake and reading one of his short stories while taking up the whole couch. The man looked up at sensing Kisuke’s eyes on him and asked a quiet, “what’s wrong?”

As if falling from the sky and promising him security as a conversation starter wasn't weird enough, another thing that was incredibly absurd was the way he subtly cared.

It was not calculated; it was not done expecting to be paid back. Ichigo cared about him with the ease of a longtime friend even though they had barely known each other longer than a month. He wasn’t overbearing, and it wasn’t more than a word here, a soft pat there, but it was obvious enough.

“Just out for a glass of water. Fell asleep on my desk again.” Kisuke says with a lazy smile, trudging towards the sink. Behind him, he could feel Ichigo getting up.

“You say that as if you didn’t do it every single day.” Ichigo snorts, a smirk probably hanging off his lips. This was another weird aspect of his stranger friend. He could be crass, bad-mouthed, loud and laughed at Kisuke’s every mishap, but there was not an ounce of malice in his words, in his face.

He hasn’t told him –he doubts he will before be getting it published– but he had been working on creating a character based off of him. Since he couldn’t get his backstory, at least he would capture his personality on paper.

Kisuke goes on to grab a cup without looking, but he freezes as a hand shoots from behind him to the cupboard and slams it shut. A bowl that had been precariously sliding down to crash on his face clinked horribly against the crystal, door but didn’t break or continue to fall.

Much to Ichigo’s infuriation, all Kisuke does after his near-experience with a face full of glass shards is stare off into the distance and tell him, matter-of-factly. “If I ever wrote about you, you’d either come off as overbearing or simply creepy.”

Ichigo seriously wonders if he could use his healing powers to get away with punching his charge in the face.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Kisuke walks out of his bedroom with the same sleep-deprived look as three hours ago. He meandered over to the kitchen, immediately distracted by the delicious smelling of what was clearly a beautifully prepared oyakodon. He’s a little envious of Ichigo’s culinary skills. If he wanted to eat something like that, it would take him actual _days_.

Ichigo looks up from stuffing his face from his seat by the counter and gestures to another bowl set in the seat opposite of him.

Kisuke blinks, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “well this is unusual.” He comments as a way of asking ‘is this for me?’.

His freeloading roommate mulls this over as he chews the food in his mouth. He gulps and says, “I know you took a solid hit to the ribs. You gotta be sore.”

Kisuke–who already had like three spoonful of food in his mouth– lifted a hand to his ribs. He mumbles In between bites. “Oh right. I had forgotten.”

Ichigo snorts, “dumbass. Well, at least it doesn’t hurt.”

“And what about you?” Kisuke takes the opportunity to ask, sly and mischievous. At this point in their relationship (barely a month in) Ichigo doesn’t seize up with worry as he had done in the beginning. He just rolls his shoulders, then he shoots him a _look_.

“I’m sorry, some of us aren’t so bad at fighting.”

“That is certainly uncalled for.”

Ichigo smiles, and proceeds to ignore him. He eats meticulously, picking apart at his food to ensure the perfect ratio of ingredients in each mouthful and Kisuke can’t help but smile fondly at his odd, but endearing roommate.

It was always curious how he could be brash and brave one moment, then have this small but incredibly endearing nerdy moments the next. It had a lot to do with the niggling suspicion that Ichigo liked him to some degree, but Kisuke had found himself taken with the strange man.

“So,” Ichigo says, after polishing his meal and saying his thanks. He folds his hands together over the counter as he pins Kisuke with one of his unnerving stares. “What are the plans for today?”

 

* * *

At first, soon after Ichigo had tripped on his doorstep with those ominous words, the strange man had decided that the best way to protect him was to follow him everywhere, walking far too close to him for comfort and barely uttering a word. He hadn’t been very good at explaining how he knew of Aizen and his plans, but given that Kisuke _did_ know Aizen and what sort of character he had, he wasn’t at all surprised that he had finally decided to kill him.

Still, Kisuke had been skeptic, accepting his words of warning but refusing his help. That was until on one of his runs for information, the yakuza had made their first apparition and Kisuke would have been very much dead had Ichigo not jumped into the fray from out of nowhere. He had mercilessly beat up approximately twenty to twenty-five armed men and then, without even waiting to catch his breath, he had proceeded to fling Kisuke on his shoulder and make a run for it.

Maybe he was a little on the side of crazy, but if he was anything, it was useful and Kisuke could certainly do with a little more protection, no matter what this stranger’s intentions were.

Ichigo had offered his help again and this time Kisuke had been inclined to accept.

It was trial and error, but barely a week after, they had found a routine that was comfortable for both of them.

Kisuke would tell him his plans for the day, the routes he might take, the places he might visit and Ichigo would use his bizarre psychic powers or whatever it was to tell him which places he should avoid, or if Ichigo should just tag along for the day.

But today he wasn’t going out.

“A friend of mine is coming here, actually.” Kisuke says with another smile.

Ichigo furrows his brow so suddenly it sets him on edge. Then, “you have friends?”

Kisuke feels justified in flinging his glass of water at his face. Unperturbed, Ichigo grins mockingly as he neatly snatches the cup-turned-projectile out of the air. There’s not even a drop of water on his person, the rest spilling down to the floor. “Is this your way of suggesting I should kick you out before Shinji-san comes?”

“This,” Ichigo says primly. “Is payback for yesterday’s little stunt.”

“You say it as if I told the gang members to come get me.”

“They were swarming that shopping mall. You practically were.”

“Anyway, your obnoxious self is not required today. Although you’re invited to stay if you can cook me dinner.”

Ichigo smiles as if he was fond of him. “Let me think about it.”

With that said, Ichigo picks up the dirty dishes as Kisuke slinks away for a quick shower and a change of clothes.

 

* * *

When Kisuke opens the door for his visit, with Ichigo peering at them from his comfortable place on the couch, the angel knows that it’s going to be a Bad DayTM.

He can’t see much with his charge blocking the entrance, but he catches a glimpse of beautiful golden wings –not unlike his own– twitching nervously as if their owner was impatient.

Not many bore golden wings. Only those who had lingered in the Human World, either by choice or obligation had their wings painted the color of the sun.

More often than not it was when they were assigned someone whose survival would make a better place for humankind and/or they were in danger of dying every single day.

His eyes meander over to the tall man chatting with Kisuke by the entrance. Now, which one was this Shinji person, Ichigo wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Kisuke moves to let Shinji in and Ichigo’s eyes are immediately drawn to the shortest angel he has ever seen.

The same midget that meets his gaze with a little gasp of shock. Her wings flutter behind her, probably doing her best to remain composed.

Remembering that unlike his dear sister, he was visible for the humans, he focuses on Shinji, trying not to feel self-conscious under the other angel’s scrutiny.

Even though he sported a human guise, he was still a full-fledged angel and any of his brothers or sisters could see his wings just fine. So the little blonde woman currently still gaping at him would undoubtedly question what the living hell he was doing.

“What the _fuck_.” Are the first words she utters, as she glides over to him, eyes wide and brow furrowed. “You’re an angel, right? Why are you visibly for the humans?”

“So this is the roommate you were telling me about? Is he good in bed?” The tall blond man asks, staring directly at Ichigo but never actually addressing him.

Ichigo has decided he doesn’t like this duo.

Before Kisuke can come up with something ridiculous or humiliating to say, he sits up straight, doing his best to ignore the angel hovering too close for comfort. “Well, if you’re being objective, I’m obviously much better than you, but neither you nor him have ever– will ever–get that pleasure.”

Shinji’s face is inscrutable, but the angel woman by his side looks between from her charge to Ichigo with surprise.

Ichigo scowls, “I don’t know what the fuck Kisuke told you about me, but I’m not after him. You can calm down on that front.”

“Someone’s cocky. Okay, say I believe you. You’re still leeching off his money and hospitality.” Shinji smiles with too much teeth and Ichigo feels himself rising to the challenge.

It is then that Kisuke steps up, meandering over to press a hand on Ichigo’s shoulders, facing Shinji and clearly taking a side. “When I mentioned my roommate to you, I didn’t do it for you to attack him. Shinji-san. Please refrain from accusing him for nonsense.”

Shinji still looks speculative, but less antagonistic towards Ichigo and he quickly understands that he’s dealing with another genius.

He looks more people-friendly, so he had been thrown off, but Shinji had probably been testing him for some reason.

 “Are you friends with him?” Ichigo feels like he has to ask, confused by this new character.

Shinji arched an eyebrow at Ichigo’s charge. Unlike earlier his face is much more relaxed. Open, as if he had passed whatever sort of test this madman had decided to toss his way. “Am I?”

Kisuke shrugged. “Probably.”

“Although to be fair, I’m more like your babysitter. I’m sure your roommate knows what I’m talking about.”

Ichigo just continued squinting at both of them, trying to see if the midget angel would help him –but she was just picking her ear, completely uninterested with the conversation.

“Let’s go to the kitchen to talk. I made tea.” Kisuke proclaimed, giving Ichigo a little shove before trailing after Shinji –who moved like he was used to the place.

Belatedly, Ichigo jumped to his feet, indignation on his face. “Wait a minute, _you did no brew anything you liar!”_

* * *

Ichigo had not been amused by Shinji’s rude behavior, nor Hiyori’s –who had introduced herself after making him trip on his way to the teapot.

And so, he had decided to be petty.

“I still don’t get it. Why would anyone _stoop so low_ as to be so aggressive with someone they just met, even if it was to test them.” Ichigo complained, as he poured himself some tea. He saw Hiyori squint in his direction, not entirely sure of what to make out of it.

“Well,” Shinji said, drawing out his every word. He held a cup of cold water in his hands, a long finger skimming the rim of it. “You know Kisuke. He’s a trouble magnet and people want to punch him in the face when they meet him. Not a fun combination when someone actually wants you dead.”

Ichigo and Shinji are unimpressed when Kisuke scoffed and said, “would it kill you to stop treating me as if I were five?”

“Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that some people just don’t _grow up_.” His eyes skirt over to Hiyori and she didn’t miss this, her wings bristling and growing like her indignation. He can’t help but smirk as it has the effect of also offending his charge.

“Ohh, he got a nice little mouth on him.” Shinji commented, smiling languidly. “Seriously, Ichigo. I like you.”

“Yeah well, first impressions are pretty important.” Ichigo replied, not willing to concede just yet. “What purpose would it serve to just annoy me?”

Shinji shrugged, the movement lazy and languid, as if he was in no rush over absolutely anything. “If you had been Aizen’s minion I would have known.”

“Unless they were all midget dandelions, I don’t see how.” Ichigo rebutted, perhaps a little too focused on inserting a jab than on making sense.

Shinji and Kisuke both eye each other. They hadn't missed the short jokes but even if Hirako was shorter than either of them, he was still taller than your average Japanese. And it wasn’t like he was even acknowledging such lame puns.

Ichigo didn’t notice, as he was too focused on Hiyori who pressed feather-light fists on top of the table. “You better shut your trap, third-rate angel!” she hissed, which to an angel as strong as Ichigo, was frankly adorable.

“Well, I don’t know how much you know about the whole story, but we do have history with Aizen-chan.” Shinji began and Ichigo turned his head in his direction, further enraging Hiyori. “We know the sort of games he likes to play. The sort of people he chooses… You’re either talking to a blood-thirsty grunt or to someone who would very much like to dissect you and pin you on a wall.”

Ichigo thought about it. “Would they also want to pin short, Hamtaro-sized people?”

“OH, THAT’S FUCKING IT!” Hiyori roared as she launched herself at Ichigo’s throat. Even though she barely weighted anything at all, and that Ichigo was stronger than her, she still had her full angelic power and Ichigo was currently earth-bound.

And so with a furious midget on his face, Ichigo reeled back, their combined weights making the chair wobble and the next moment they both lurch down, as the chair finished tipping backward and they both crashed down against the merciless floor.

But since Hiyori had the privilege of remaining out of sight, it just looked as if Ichigo had spontaneously flipped on his back.

Both Shinji and Kisuke stare at the fallen man with confusion and amusement respectively, but before Shinji can say something with his quick wit, Kisuke turned to him and with a nice smile he asked, “Shinji-san. Do you perchance have an otherworldly creature with you?”

Ichigo doesn’t have the energy to fling Hiyori off his face –she crawled off, shooting him a confused look at his lack of resistance. Instead he laid there and muttered darkly. “That’s it. I fucking quit.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ichigo had refused to give any comment about his random fall, had simply glowered darkly at Shinji as if it somehow had been his fault, then glowered at Kisuke as if he had been personally offended by the man and then absconded from the building, without saying a single word to them.

As he closed the door behind him, he could hear Hiyori blowing a raspberry at his back which helped his mood in absolutely _nada_.

 

* * *

 

Hands shoved deep into his pants pockets, Ichigo begins an aimless walk down the sidewalk directly outside Kisuke’s apartment as he mutters darkly to himself, uncaring of the glances he received from bystanders.

Behind him, unseen to the naked eye, his wings flap irritably along with his mood. Kisuke might be his charge, but what Ichigo wouldn’t give to strangle the guy sometimes.

Not doing so was already his biggest test, he did not need any idiot come here and provoke him–more so with such an annoying guardian such as Hiyori.

Which on its own was weird, how old was she? Angels under fifty weren’t assigned active duty, let alone _on earth._

Ichigo snaps out of his train of thought to look around him. The noise of a busy city assaults him as he pulled back from his mind. He’s on the sidewalk of a busy street, cars zooming by on his right, people walking on his left. Gaudy signs of different shops colored the otherwise gray landscape, like misfit flowers.

Earth, huh?

To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing on Earth either.

One moment he had been the leader of a battalion, commander to thousands of his brothers and sisters; and next thing he knows, Uryuu is being reassigned to his position, and he gets basically demoted to earth.

He doesn’t have anything against Humans, but it wasn’t the job he had chosen.

And not even uptight, let’s-follow-the-rules Uryuu had been able to give him an answer as to why he was being demoted. If his services weren’t necessary anymore, they could have just forcibly retired him. Or simply given him a lighter load, a change of job that didn’t include him losing a third of his angelic powers.

“Am I being tested?” He asks to the sky, not expecting an answer. “What am I doing here? Who is my charge and why is he important?”

 _Was_ he important?

Maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe it was just that Ichigo was useless enough that they assigned him to someone that wasn’t even in danger.

His brooding eventually leads him to the local mimicry of a forest Humans called a Park, and he lays down on an empty bench to stare at his previous home in the sky.

He misses home.

He misses his family and friends. He misses being the leader, having battalions at his beck and call. He misses knowing his purpose, feeling his dual blades heavy on his hands as he sliced demon after demon.

If only he could return, even if just briefly.

If only someone could tell him what was his purpose here on Earth.

 

* * *

 

A shadow is cast on his face and he snaps out of his dark thoughts at seeing none other than his insufferable charge looking down at him with a curious expression on his face.

He doesn’t pry, he doesn’t ask. He just extends a hand and says, “Let’s go home, Ichigo.”

Ichigo can’t stop the thought that his home is a dimension away, but he still smiles and accepts the hand.

Kisuke drags him over to a random tree, where he spends several minutes marveling at how mossy it is, and how perfect it would be for his stories.

Ichigo stares at it and all he can offer is, “It’s a pretty tree.” But still Kisuke agrees and nods and shoots off a dozen different adjectives to describe the ‘pretty tree’.

And then he drags him home, where a pot of Ichigo’s tea and meal were heated up and ready for him. Ichigo slants a glance at his housemate and charge, but doesn’t do anything other than smile as Kisuke just waves a hand around and goes hide in his bedroom.

The guardian angel picks up a bowl and begins serving himself. All things considered, his charge could have been a thousand times worse.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk
> 
> Drop a comment?  
> (This was supposed to be day 3, but I couldn't get it out on time lol) Even now, this story is a Hot Mess.


End file.
